Afterwards
by csiAngel
Summary: Post-ep 2.09. "He finds her in her office after everyone else has gone..."


Title: Afterwards  
Author: csiAngel  
Rating: K+  
Summary: Post-ep 2.09."He finds her in her office after everyone else has gone..."  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Newsroom.  
A/N: Victoria requested that my next fic be for The Newsroom. Et voilà! Just a little scene set after the season two finale. Thanks again to Victoria for reading and reassuring.

... ... ...

He finds her in her office after everyone else has gone. She is sitting at her desk, her hand out in front of her as she admires the ring. Her eyes and smile are alight with joy. He expects that his are the same.

A blush tints her cheeks and she lowers her hand when she notices that he is watching her. She gives him a shy smile and ducks her head.

"Don't stop on my account," he tells her as he walks into the room.

She meets his eyes and allows her smile to widen; he can feel his do the same.

"It's beautiful," she remarks, softly.

"Not compared to you."

"That was a little -"

"I heard it."

They share amused looks.

"But I mean it," he adds with a smirk.

Her eyes sparkle as they hold his and for a while he is just content to gaze at her. Then he remembers that he came to make sure she gets some rest.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go home?" he asks eventually.

"I got distracted."

She accompanies that with a cute smile but it isn't quite enough to cover a glimpse of... something. Something less happy.

"Mac..." He steps nearer to her desk. "What's wrong?"

She hesitates before answering and he waits, patiently, hoping she will decide to confide in him.

"I'm having trouble believing it," she finally says, quietly. "I expect to wake up any second to find I fell asleep in the hair and makeup room in the middle of the show."

Will smiles sympathetically and moves across the room. "Come on," he suggests, picking up her coat. "We're going to go home, sleep like we've never slept before and, in the morning, we'll still be engaged."

"You're sure?" Though she queries it, she still follows his instructions, standing up and collecting her purse.

"I'm sure," he assures her as she moves round her desk and allows him to help her into the coat.

"You're absolutely certain?"

"I am," he promises, looking down at her exhausted, yet hopeful, eyes. "This is real, Mac."

"This is real."

"This is real."

The delight makes it back to her lips. "Then I should call my parents."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate being woken in the wee hours of the morning."

"Yes. You're right. I should call them tomorrow. Well, later today."

With a definitive nod, she turns and heads for the door.

"After you've had some sleep," he remarks from behind her, "Then your call might actually make sense."

She stops and turns to face him before they reach the doorway. "Are you sure about this?"

"It is definitely real."

"But are you sure you want to marry me?"

A beat of guilt runs over him to think that she is having to ask him that.

In answer to her question he tenderly places his hands on her shoulders and encourages her towards him. His thumbs trace light patterns on her neck as he lowers his lips to hers. He kisses her softly and slowly and so thoroughly that she could be in absolutely no doubt about his love.

When they part, he watches a smile creep across her lips before her eyes flutter open.

"I have never been more sure of anything, Mackenzie."

"I'm sorry I -"

"Don't be. I haven't exactly kept you up to speed with my feelings. But no more of that. I love you. I want to marry you and love you for the rest of my life. Although, I would do that even if we didn't get married." He wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer to him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Will, of course I am."

"Then we're all set."

"We're getting married."

"We're getting married."

Her grin looks like it should be accompanied by a squeal of excitement but she keeps that in. Looping her arms around his neck, she pushes herself up so her lips are level with his.

"I love you," she utters, softly.

"I love you."

He holds her against him as he accepts the kiss she initiates. One arm round her shoulders; one across her waist, he loses himself in the sensation of being able to do this again. And though he would quite happily stay right where they are forever, he does manage to remind himself, once again, that Mac is in dire need of rest (not that he isn't enjoying her exhausted chatter). But he doesn't want this to end. And it's not because he is afraid he will wake up in the hair and make up room. He knows this is real; he knows it isn't going to disappear. But he has waited far too long and spending another minute away from her seems crazy. Seeing only one solution, he gradually breaks away from her.

"Mac..." He fights to ignore her disappointed mew, bestowing two brief kisses, before pulling his head back. "Mac, I'm conscious that we really need to get some sleep but I really don't want to let you go either... What would you say to sleeping in the same place tonight? We can just sleep, it -"

"I'd say that's the second best idea you've had all night, Billy."

"The first being teasing Sloan by cutting her off all the time?"

"Oh of course."

For all they have both agreed to the plan, they are still standing in each other's arms, gazing sappily at one another and haven't moved even an inch.

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we should..."

"In a minute."

"I'm worried if we leave it any longer you'll be asleep before we make it to the elevator."

"You'll just have to carry me."

"Or we could take this elsewhere."

"You don't want to carry me?"

"Of course I would willingly carry you. But it's not great for my knee or my elbow."

"A convenient excuse... You promise that as soon as we're home I'll be back in your arms?"

"Mac, from this point on, I promise that you will spend the absolute bare minimum amount of time not in my arms."

She beams at him with such love and adoration that he wonders if he will ever actually let her out of his arms again.

"Then let's move this elsewhere."

THE END


End file.
